Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 12

"What's wrong with you?" Cheryl's voice sounded dangerously close to cracking.

"I'm fucking exhausted, C! And every time we've talked the past weeks, you've been whining about one thing or the other. I need a goddamn break, OK?!"

Samuel tossed the rolled up socks he was holding on the bed. From the other end of the phone came a choked sob. A guitar strumming seeped through from Rivers's room, tentative and broken. Samuel checked the screen—the call was still running.

"I'm not one of your toy soldiers." The sudden words fell out like frozen like hail. "Scream at me like that again and we're done talking."

Samuel slumped on the carpet and his heavy head fell on the mattress. He pinched his nose to chase a migraine and took a calming breath. "I just want to have a pleasant, light conversation for once."

"I'm glad to hear that discussing our wedding is a nuisance for you."

"Don't twist my words. You know what I mean. The planning has turned into an ordeal with your father having a say about everything we do and me having to step in, the florist bullshit, the restaurant nightmare—"

"Sam, I'm well aware of it cause I'm the one having to dealing with all that! I'm busy and exhausted, too..."

"I know! That's what I'm saying. Let's talk about something else for once." He pushed himself onto the bed, resting his forehead in his palm.

A loud sigh filled the microphone, followed by the beeping of a microwave. "The deadline for the deposit is on Tuesday."

"Then pay it. I said the venue is fine–"

"Fine." Cheryl scoffed. "I'm so thrilled my fiancee thinks the place where we're going to swear eternal love in front of a hundred people is fine."

Samuel's back hit the mattress hard. Lifeless. Why was this conversation more draining than the sixteen hour day he'd had? Was Cheryl trying to break him? With another deep breath, he reined his thoughts and let out only careful words.

"Baby, I can't come over and check it out. If I could, I would, but I'm stuck here. From the pictures you sent, it looks good to me. It's white, rustic and dainty, just like you like it. You either wait for me to come home next month, and we can go see other options, or if you love this one, I like it, too. I've already told you four times now. I don't know how else to explain this." The last sentence came out through clenched teeth. He paused.

"OK." The microwaved door slammed closed.

"OK?"

"Yes. OK. I'll take care of it." Cheryl's snappy tone didn't match her words.

Samuel rubbed his face. Passive-aggressive Cheryl always made his blood boil. "You don't have to. I'm happy to start looking again when I come home. But if you love this venue, please, please... send the damn deposit."

"I said I will."

"Alright."

Leah's familiar laughter thundered over the music and the guitar strumming stopped.

Samuel sat up, fighting a head rush. "Are you at the hospital tonight?"

"No. It's Courtney's bachelorette party. I told you like, three times."

"Oh, yeah, you did. Sorry. What's the plan?" He pulled on a long, loose thread dangling from his shorts.

Cheryl sighed. Had she mentioned that, too? "We're staying at the MGM. Drinks, shows, casino. The whole thing."

"Sounds fun."

"Yes, can't wait."

Cheryl might get drunk enough to cheat, break her promise and give him a ticket to freedom. Samuel's head fell in his hand. What the actual fuck?